


With This Horcrux, I Thee Wed

by wrennette



Series: With This Horcrux... [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Delphinia wins), Bondage, Breaking and Entering, Cruelty to Animals, Dark Lady Delphinia, Dark Lord Tom, Delphinia is Harry, Delphinia vs the Dursleys, Diadem Horcrux, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fem!Harry, Language of Flowers, Made up paganism, Murder, Murderous Intentions, Paganism, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Ritual Sex, Slytherins scheming, Taking liberties with paganism, Tom and Delphinia do bad bad things, Vengeance thy name is, Vengeful Harry, Weddings, both partners underage, face fucking, for part of it anyway, horcrux, larceny, morally ambivalent Harry, tagging all the things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5971948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their wedding day, Tom presents Delphinia with a horcrux. How tender. How sweet. How very <i>Tom</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With This Horcrux, I Thee Wed

**Author's Note:**

> There are quite a few problematic things in this fic. Delphinia is fifteen when she marries Tom in this fic, and is depicted as having had a sexual relationship with him prior to marriage. If that bothers you, leave. Delphinia and Tom are not nice people, and Delphinia is rather vengeful in this installment, enacting quite a bit of murder and mayhem, and also killing small fluffy animals. If this bothers you, leave.
> 
> J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I clearly do not.

Delphinia smiled coldly at her reflection in the mirror, turning slightly and cocking her head in a slightly reptilian fashion, watching the light fracture off the deep blue green gem surmounting her tiara. It was a magnificent piece, and with a storied provenance to match. Ravenclaw’s famous diadem, long thought lost. Her smile twisted into a smirk. Her Tom was much too clever for _that_.

She stood, the stiff satin of her layered gown and robes rustling about her. The gown gleamed a deep, bloody red, concidently the same shade that was in ages past restricted to use by fertile witches and wizards. It was further embroidered with intricate designs in thread of gold and tiny rubies and seed pearls. Over top, she wore robes woven from cloth of gold and embroidered with more thread of gold, diamonds, rubies and seed pearls. 

She was no virgin to be eligible to wear white, and it had pleased her and Tom both to utilize the ancient tradition of red robes and broadcast her fertility. She was fifteen now, and healthy enough to conceive. It would also visually categorize her as Gryffindor, in red and gold, giving her a bit of room to play. So for his gift to her, she wore Ravenclaw’s diadem, saturated with his heavy magic. The golden oakleaf crown of House Trevelyan had been Delphinia’s wedding day present to Tom, so each of them would have their fancy headgear on the day of.

Four years and a few months had passed since she and Tom walked out of the Chamber of Secrets and into legend. Despite being only sixteen physically and mentally at the time, Tom had been more than clever and cunning enough to ensure that he was soon quite safe, and Delphinia with him. After all, Tom had owed Delphinia his life, and he had always been one to pay his debts.

Their first stop had been Gringotts, and the goblins, rather to Delphinia’s surprise, had been quite pleased to see them. Delphinia had been less than pleased when they finally escaped the bank hours later, after learning the reasons for the goblins’ geniality. As her parents had died without wills, the Wizengamot had assigned Dumbledore to administer the Potter estate, and what an estate it was. 

The Headmaster had named himself Delphinia’s guardian, but never bothered to take the investments in hand or ensure the properties were looked after. Even with the accounts in disarray and the properties in disrepair though, the Potter Legacy was one of the richest in Magical Britain. Dumbledore hadn’t stooped so low as to enrich himself from the Potter accounts, he was paid quite well in his various positions after all, but there was little else he had deigned to do either. He had however utilized his power as Delphinia’s guardian to use her votes as a proxy, and had ensured quite a few laws were enacted that had Tom seething.

They had left the bank both emancipated, betrothed in anticipation of sacred matrimony, and with Tom as Lord of Houses Peverell, Slytherin, Gaunt, and Selwyn, and Delphinia’s Regent for Houses Gryffindor, Trevelyan, Potter, and Black. Their titles had come with quite a bit of property, and more than enough gold that they would never have to work a day in their lives. For a pair of impoverished orphans, it was quite the unlooked for windfall.

Tom had dazedly led them to a small hotel deep in the magical district. Delphinia had never realized that Diagon and Knockturn Alleys were only two in an extensive warren of streets populated by witches, wizards, and other magical beings and creatures. They even had a London house of their own tucked deep in the district, known collectively as Wych Wynd. At the hotel they had checked in as brother and sister Tom and Rhia Riddle. The bored wizard at the desk had barely looked up from his Quidditch magazine.

For a week Tom and Delphinia had lingered in London while the goblins of Gringotts inspected and secured the structures and wards of their myriad properties. In the interim, both of them saw a healer recommended by the goblins, as the bylaws of some of their houses would not permit them to take power if they hadn't undergone thorough testing and had signed and certified a clean bill of health. If they wanted to wed, they would need documentation that they weren't too closely related. It had been to neither Tom nor Delphinia’s great surprise to find they were both in poor health.

Thankfully, Tom even at sixteen was more than intimidating enough to keep uncomfortable questions from being asked. They'd spent quite a bit of coin on potions and rituals to ameliorate the damage of their childhoods. They'd bought some clothing and such as well, Tom having nothing but the robes that had come into being with him, and Delphinia having left her belongings behind at Hogwarts.

Delphinia's loyal owl Hedwig found them on the eighth day, and on the twelfth day after they left Hogwarts, they left England. The Blacks were an ancestrally Norman family, and had come north from continental Britain in the train of William The Conqueror. They had maintained their ancient chateau in Normandy though, and the other families to which Delphinia and Tom were heir had other European properties as well. It was to the Black’s ancient Norman stronghold of Chateau du Sable they withdrew.

Delphinia smiled at the memory. The Chateau had earned its moniker proudly; it was originally constructed of the local pale limestone, but generations of wards had been etched into the stone and inscribed with the blood of the resident wizards. The magic of the place had been almost cloying in its darkness, with bitter coppery undertones. The sheer amount of magic with which the stones were imbued had turned them to a light absorbing black with glittering inclusions of pure power. Even on the sunniest days, an ominous shadow clung to the Chateau, and Delphinia had loved it from first sight.

The next year had been spent learning French, healing, and educating themselves. Their chief amusement at first had been watching Magical Britain collectively lose their shit about first the supposed deaths of Delphinia, Lockhart, and the two Weasley children, and later the discovery that Delphinia had left no body behind. Their amusement and quickly dimmed though, when they realized that rumours of Delphinia’s continued existence put them both in grave danger.

Tom’s first solution had involved using the _imperius_ on a local muggle and using that person as their front in town. He had spent a great deal of time, too, teaching Delphinia everything he knew. Given that Tom had always been more than clever and insatiably curious, and that he had both his largest and most sane horcrux as his base, and his eldest and most knowledgeable as backup, he knew quite a bit.

“Winky,” Delphinia called, and a tiny house elf appeared, curtseying deeply. Winky had been a present upon their engagement from Barty Crouch Jr., one of Tom’s more ardent followers. Barty had shown up about a year and a half after Tom and Delphinia came to France, half mad and utterly devoted. Tom had taught Delphinia the Killing Curse that very night, with their muggle ‘caretaker’ as the target. After that, Barty had been the one to go into town and procure what they desired, although he could go quite a bit further than town.

Barty was sent all over the world to procure books and obscure artifacts for Tom, and other odds and ends for Delphinia. Sometimes she sent him on impossible seeming missions just to see if he would survive. She liked Barty well enough, Delphinia supposed, but he didn’t belong to her the way he belonged to Tom, or the way she and Tom belonged to one another, and her possessive little heart couldn’t help but resent that just a bit.

The elf ensured that Delphinia was perfectly pressed and made up. Today was, after all, her wedding. More importantly, to Delphinia and Tom both, today was the day they announced their presence to Britain. They’d made short trips back of course, it was their home. After they’d secured new wands, they’d visited the Dursleys so Delphinia could perfect her usage of the Unforgivables. It had sparked quite the scandal, Delphinia’s abhorrent muggle relatives turning up dead. 

Delphinia smiled rather more fondly at that memory. She’d had Vernon fuck Petunia until his heart nearly gave out, the fat slob, and finished him off with _Avada Kedavra_ , then left his obese corpse on top of her aunt until Petunia was suffocated under the weight of her own husband. A tragic accident. Marge, the bigoted drunk, had had an unfortunate car wreck driving drunk home from identifying her only brother at the morgue. It seemed her heart wasn’t terribly strong either. 

Dudley - well. Dudley had been _broken_ by the loss of his family. Delphinia had given him equal time under the _cruciatus_ as he had spent punching her. His mind had given out when they were less than half way through. It was rather disappointing. Still, it had been quite the night. 

Tom had been quite pleased with her.

They’d gone to the Dursley house first, crept in under cover of darkness. When Vernon lay dead, and Petunia sobbing and struggling beneath his foul mass, Tom had whisked Delphinia away to the manor of his old friend Abraxas Malfoy. Abraxas had been long dead of course, but the wards on the property had accepted Tom and his guest without qualm. The Malfoys had been out at one society function or another, and only that had saved their lives. Lucius’ mistake might have turned out quite favorably for Tom, but he didn’t take kindly to the fact that one of his horcruxes had been disposed of like so much trash.

Like two plague ridden shadows they’d stalked through the grounds. At Tom’s instruction and with his guidance, Delphinia had individually cursed each shrieking peacock and peahen, each trembling house elf. The prizewinning winged horses in the stables were put down like so much dogmeat. She’d even killed the little white kitten that was meant to be Draco’s welcome home present. She’d felt a little bad about that. It was a cute kitten. 

Once all the animals and help were lying dead, they’d taken every book, every artifact, every glittering bit of jewelry in the house. It seemed Lucius didn’t trust the banks, there were quite a few golden galleons laying around. When the house was stripped bare of everything they desired, Tom had laid Delphinia on the pristine white linen table cloth, and stripped her bare as well.

His mouth had been so hot on hers. His fingers so skilled. Delphinia had already known from their sparring that her deft wandwork and creative spellcasting made Tom - amorous. It seemed seeing her kill and steal and act like a very bad girl worked quite well also. He’d kissed and licked every inch of her, and hissed exactly what he planned to do with her in obscene parseltongue. She’d felt like she was burning. And then he’d put that tongue to very good use, licking and sucking her clit until she came so hard she stained the cloth on which they rested.

Tom had risen over her then, and she’d screamed her pleasure as he sank in to the hilt. He was still so much larger and stronger than her then, eighteen and a half to her thirteen. She’d torn around his girth, inadequately prepared. She hadn’t much cared though. It wasn’t the first time he’d torn her, and she’d learned to crave the pain of their rougher couplings. He’d taken her hard and fast, filling her to the brim with his potent seed.

When Tom was sated, which had taken a few more rounds at various locations throughout the manor, he’d loosed _fiendfyre_ in the house, and taught the spell to Delphinia as well. The wards would guard much of the house against the cursed flames. Generations of Malfoys after all had been born and bled and died within those walls, and their blood was in the stones. Even so, it had been a glorious sight, standing at the crest of the bluffs overlooking the burning house and watching the Malfoys and Aurors race about trying to restrain the pair of fiery basilisks that rampaged through the property.

They’d gone to Marge’s that same night, and utilized more subtle curses. She’d never physically harmed Delphinia after all, just spoken against her. They’d killed all the prize bulldogs in the kennels, it seemed there was - something wrong in that batch of dog chow. By the time the call from the morgue came at mid morning, Marge was half crazed from catching ominous shadows in the corners of her eyes and on the reflective surfaces in her home, and hearing whispers in her ears. They let her get almost home safe before she _had a heart attack_ in the drive, and caused her car to go slamming into the rear wall of the garage. It seemed that was where the gas line ran, and they were soon watching another house burn.

After a quick visit to Gringotts to empty their pockets, they’d spent the rest of their day at the picturesque ruin of Maison de Minquiers. An early medieval castle, it had once been the demesnes of the House of Lestrange. Unfortunately, all of the Lestranges had fought the Aurors when the DMLE came for young Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix after the fall of the Dark Lord. The ensuing firefight had killed the rest of the family and demolished the estate. 

Still, it had been a nice place for a picnic, Delphinia thought. A great mass of romantic ruins perched on the miniscule islet, also called Minquiers, in the Channel just south of Jersey. The whole place had smelt of salt and seaweed, and the pounding of the waves and calling of the birds were incessant. They’d coupled there too, Tom laying on their bundled robes as Delphinia rode him, the sun limning her slender form with gold and lighting crimson fire in her dark hair.

That night, they’d gone to visit Dudley. The poor lad was all alone in the world, and had already been sobbing over his losses. Delphinia had deftly immobilised him, then looked about the room. Smirking, she’d knelt and opened Tom’s flies. Tom had raised one perfect eyebrow in question, and Delphinia’s smirk only widened as she began sucking and lapping at Tom’s cock.

Tom had soon forgotten about their audience. He took control before long, fisting his hand in Delphinia’s wild dark hair and fucking her mouth. She’d gagged and choked loudly, moaning as tears sprang to her eyes. She was dizzy from lack of oxygen, her throat rubbed raw, by the time Tom finished, his seed splattering down her throat as he eased free, filling her mouth and dripping down her chin. Delphinia had smirked, then rose, chest heaving, and cast the _cruciatus_ at her obviously aroused cousin.

Unable to move, the pain would have been doubled for Dudley. It tripled when Tom realized that the obese boy had been permitted to bully Delphinia when they were younger, but not only that, to watch Delphinia in their moment of intimacy, and then have the audacity to desire what belonged to Tom. 

“I wanted that to last longer,” Delphinia had pouted a few minutes later when Dudley was nothing more than a loose limbed, drooling, gibbering wreck. Tom had shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes had been dark with promise.

“You probably shouldn’t have riled me up then,” Tom had practically hissed, and Delphinia had smiled and gone up onto her toes, pressing a chaste kiss to Tom’s mouth. Although their vengeance against the Dursley family had been complete at that point, they’d made one more stop before they returned to Chateau du Sable.

Spinners End had been dark and dank. It had smelled of chemicals and overcooked cabbage. The lights had blinked between humming orange and off, rats and other vermin scuttling in the shadows. Tom had led the way unerringly to the only house with lights on that late at night, a falling down brick terrace house the council should have either renovated or demolished at least a decade before.

The wards had felt oily and staticky on Delphinia’s skin. Uncertain. A light had flared in the lower portion of the house, and the door was flung open to reveal her potions professor, Severus Snape. Tom had cast _cruciatus_ without sound, without waiting for a greeting, sending Snape flailing to the ground. He cut the curse off before it did much damage, and stepped over Snape’s twitching form into the house.

Taking Tom’s offered hand of assistance, Delphinia too had stepped over her former teacher. And if she’d taken the opportunity to be petty and step squarely on one of his valuable hands, well, she hadn’t done any permanent damage. The front room had been as dank as one might expect given the neighborhood they’d walked through to reach the place. Frankly, Delphinia had been disgusted to find someone living in such squalor. And of his own choice. Snape was a grown and competent wizard. A few cleaning charms surely wouldn’t have gone amiss.

By the time Snape regained enough motor function the stand and stagger into the room, then drop to the floor in prostration, Tom had conjured them a brand new sofa on which to sit, not trusting the monstrosity already present to hold their weight. Tom had let Snape smell his dirty floor for quite the long moment, listening to the older looking wizard’s ragged breath and watching him like a hawk.

“I am sworn to protect Lady Potter,” was the first thing that spilled out of Snape’s mouth, his voice lower than usual and raspy from being held under _cruciatus_.

“Explain,” Tom had bit out, and so Delphinia learned how Snape had brought Tom the prophecy that doomed her parents, then later begged Tom for the life of Delphinia’s mother. Delphinia sneered at that, although to a degree she understood. If someone was threatening Tom, she’d do anything to see him safe. Although her methods would more likely see her killing anyone who dared look at Tom wrong.

In parseltongue that night, Delphinia and Tom had debated whether or not to let Snape live. He’d betrayed Tom after all, although he’d saved Delphinia at least once, which seemed to offset that debt. And Tom hadn’t upheld his end of the bargain with Snape, so it was arguable that Tom owed the Potions Master. The deciding factor of course, was that Snape, so long as Delphinia was on the same side as Tom, was the perfect spy. Dumbledore believed that the Potions Master was utterly loyal due to Severus’ oaths on the grave of Lily Potter. 

Dawn had been breaking when Tom and Delphinia left Spinners End that night. They’d returned to France, and Barty had arrived not long after. Snape had, after a time, come to Chateau du Sable as well, and provided an even better sparring target than Barty, who was rather out of practice. They were careful not to damage either Death Eater too much, and in time, Delphinia even came to like them. 

Today, Snape, Severus now, would act the part of father and priest and walk Delphinia down the aisle before assisting in the ritual to bind them in holy matrimony. Barty was one of Tom’s ushers. Delphinia smiled at that, and the expression finally brought warmth to her face. A gesture of her hand, and Winky caused the door to open. Severus was waiting just beyond in robes of gleaming black that boasted a reddish sheen when the light hit them just right. Behind him were Delphinia’s attendants, Luna Lovegood, Lily Moon, Fay Dunbar and Daphne Greengrass. 

Luna and Lily had been Ravenclaws, Fay a Gryffindor with Delphinia, and Daphne a Slytherin. All four of them had left Hogwarts behind when Dumbledore fortified the school. Only muggleborns and a few halfbloods attended anymore, not understanding that by his actions, Dumbledore had placed a massive target on the school. That though, was a matter for a different day. The four attendants curtseyed deeply, their saffron robes over vermillion gowns gleaming under the golden candlelight. 

“My Lady,” Severus said in his soft, low voice, and offered his arm. Delphinia’s smile broadened, and she laid her hand on his elbow. The girls pirouetted to face the opposite direction and led the way down the hall. At the top of the stairs, Winky brought Delphinia’s cloak. As tradition dictated, it was of undyed virgin lambswool, with the crest of her joined Houses embroidered on the breast in colour. Severus clasped the cloak around her shoulders, and they were soon settling into the open topped carriage that would bring them to the bonding.

A team of four Granians so pale a grey they were nearly white drew the carriage, their slightly darker wings held high and showy above their backs. The horses knew the way, their bridles being enchanted to lead them to the ritual site. They wound their way through Castleton, the walled town beneath the ancient Peverell estate of Peak Tor. 

From the time he had discovered his inheritance, Tom had been buying up the town beneath his most ancient property, and having the goblins manage the parcels and only let them to magical persons or beings. There were very few muggles left in this part of Derbyshire, and all of them were housebound. The magical townsfolk though lined the processional way, tossing flowers in front of the carriage and calling their blessings for the enigmatic bride. 

Delphinia shivered beneath her cloak as she felt the carriage cross the first layer of ancient wards tied to Peak Tor. Tom had played carefully with the enchantments so that they would both be protected and able to make the statement they wished today. All of Magical Britain had been invited to the bonding of Lord Peverell and Lady Trevelyan, although very few knew exactly whom the celebrants in the ceremony would be.

The carriage bypassed the turn off that would take them up to the castle itself, instead heading up into the rolling hills. High above the town, Tom had rebuilt by hand and reconsecrated the ancient timber henge of his ancestors. His blood and Delphinia’s had been let, and all of their attendants for today had donated a vial or two as well. So had no few of their enemies. Magical blood was magical blood after all.

At the bottom of one hill in particular, the Granians drew to a stop. Severus stepped down first, and assisted the maidens down in turn before helping Delphinia from the carriage. The walk up to the henge was already lined five thick with onlookers craning their necks to see the bride. Her gold robes and crimson gown flashed from beneath the pale cloak, but the hood was deep enough to hide her face. 

_Lady Trevelyan_ the whispers raced up the hill, and even if he hadn’t felt her magic steadily growing closer, Tom would have known his bride had arrived. The maidens in their gleaming gowns firmed their grasp on their wands, then began the dignified dance upward to the henge. The whispers grew louder; not many danced to the altar any more, it was terribly old fashioned. _But the Lady wore a white cloak_ , they whispered. _And see how red her train?_

Entering the timber henge, Delphinia smiled in the shadows of her hood. Tom stood opposite, in matching undyed cloak, his face just as hidden. At his back stood Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Jr., Anton Dolohov, and rather surprisingly, Bill Weasley. Their officiant and bonder was Minerva McGonagall, arranged with the help of Severus. She stood on the dais of the altar, dressed in mottled grey robes fashioned of undyed black and white wool woven together, signalling her perfect neutrality.

Tom and Delphinia timed things perfectly. As Delphinia reached the dais, she unclasped her cloak. Tom caught her bare hand and stepped onto the dais with her, his cloak already unfastened. Their chief attendants, Barty and Luna respectively, gathered the cloaks and stepped back. The gathered masses gasped in unison. They might not yet recognize the Dark Lord, but they’d been searching every shadow for Delphinia these past years, and they knew her face well.

Beneath his traditional white cloak, Tom wore the equally traditional robes of ‘suitor blue,’ a rich shade that clashed slightly with Delphinia’s red. Even so, the colours were not only traditional, they had very specific and ancient meanings. As they stepped onto the dais, Tom and Delphinia genuflected to Minerva, then knelt facing one another, their hands joined.

Minerva raised her hands in the ancient pose of the Ourans, who spoke to and for the gods. In her strong, Gaelic accented voice, Minerva called the quarters in the ancient way. As each watchtower was called, a pair of attendants took up their station. When the circle was enjoined, Minerva and Severus invoked the ancient gods and blessed ancestors, and Tom squeezed Delphinia’s hand.

Tom drew a deep breath, and then, he began to sing. Delphinia smiled until she felt as though it would split her face in two as he chanted the ancient rites, promising himself to her in mind, body, magic, and soul; in sacred love and sacred trust. Tears streamed from Delphinia’s eyes as Tom’s chant finished, and she drew a deep breath herself. Tom had sung his oaths in Latin, but Delphinia sang hers out in Welsh, the language of her forefathers back to the time of Merlin. She promised herself to him in mind and body, soul and magic; in sacred love and sacred trust.

Their magic had risen as they sang, coalescing around them in visible light. The air was heavy with the scent of magic, as if a thunderstorm were brewing overhead. Minerva bound their hands together, and Severus chanted the final aspect of the ritual with Minerva singing the descant. While Severus sang his Latin in a deep baritone, Minerva’s clear soprano soared overtop. They finished on the same breath, and Tom and Delphinia kissed. The binding ribbon reformed into twinned bands of gold around their dominant wrists as magic broke over them in flashes of arching gold and silver light and the scent of apples and lightning.

Tom and Delphinia rose in unison, their eyes flashing as they stood. The circle was unmade around them, and the magic that had been raised roiled outwards. The ripples in magic caused by the power of their joining would reverberate through Magical Britain for days on a level that any witch or wizard could feel, and more subtly for years. Their hands joined, the bonded processed back out of the henge, and led the way down to the waiting carriages. 

This time the Granians drew them up to the receiving porch of the ancient castle, and Tom alit with his bride. Their attendants preceded them into the manor’s ballroom, but Tom had a more important destination in mind. He carried Delphinia up and up and up. While she’d been through Peak Tor before, she’d never come to this part of the castle. He brought her through the heavy family wards and into the Lord’s Suite.

The bedroom had been decorated in the traditional manner, every flat surface covered in bowls of clear spring water, braziers of incense, sheaves of ripe wheat, fruits, and flowers with beneficent meanings. Fragrant myrtle and honeysuckle for love. Canterbury Bells for constancy. Heliotrope for devotion. Holly for domestic happiness. Ferns for sincerity. Ivy and ivy geraniums for wedded bliss. 

Delphinia smiled up at her husband as he laid her for the first time on their marriage bed. A coverlet of undyed lambswool was spread on the bed, and scattered with rose petals. Delphinia rucked up the skirts of her robes and gown and spread her legs, revealing to her husband just how traditionally she’d dressed, with nothing else beneath her clothes. Tom let out a low groan of arousal, then leaned down to lick up the juices that were already slicking the lips of Delphinia’s labia.

“Husband,” Delphinia purred, and Tom growled, nipping at her desire swollen clitoris. Delphinia squealed, and Tom grinned in a manner not unlike a wolf. He leaned in again and sealed his lips around her clit, sucking hard and flicking his tongue over the tender nub. Delphinia jack-knifed on the bed, and Tom pulled away with another growl. His wand flashed, and Delphinia was bound to the bed. She moaned eagerly, writhing in her restraints. 

“I come to thee as to the altar, in sacred love and sacred trust,” Delphinia gasped, and Tom growled, then banished everything she wore except for the newly formed gold bonding bracelet and Ravenclaw’s diadem.

“I come to thee as to the altar, in sacred love and sacred trust,” Tom growled, and then he was over her, inside her. He hissed softly but insistently as he rolled his hips, and the heavy feeling of his magic that had permeated the diadem swelled. Delphinia moaned as she understood. It was a horcrux, but hadn’t harmed her as she was already his. The fragment of soul surged into Tom as he pounded into Delphinia, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his battered soul healed further. Delphinia screamed as Tom’s seed filled her, her own orgasm just out of grasp.

Tom half collapsed on top of her, but managed somehow to keep his hips moving. He didn’t soften, and Delphinia moaned as pleasure wound tighter and tighter inside her. The glans of his cock rubbed perfectly inside her, and finally it was enough. With a shout, she came, clenching and slicking ecstatically as she tumbled over the edge. Tom came again, her fluttering walls milking every drop of semen from him. 

Lazily, Tom waved his wand. The restraints around Delphinia’s ankles gave way, and Tom shifted carefully so he could kneel with Delphinia straddling his waist, his softening cock still wedged deep inside her. For a long moment, their eyes caught together. Silently, Delphinia nodded. While she was a warrior at heart, she could help their cause most as wife and mother. And if it came down to it, she was perfectly willing to ride to war with a baby strapped to her back. Tom carefully engraved the first rune just below her navel and began to chant.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to continue on from [My Book and the War are One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4827632), but then a plot bunny bit, and here we are. From this point I intend to write one fic per horcrux, although My Book took care of two, so that will be an aberration. I don't have any of the other fics planned or mapped out, so you'll just have to be patient and hope the muse decides to visit me :)
> 
> Feel free to follow me home to tumblr, I'm wrennette there too.


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